RPlog:Squid Lake: The Eruption
---- A rumor has begun to spread amongst the likes of spacers, smugglers and pirates alike. It seems that, amongst some of the deepest levels of society under the waters of Dac, some racial tension has begun to exist between the Quarren and the Mon Calamari. "Old news," say some. "Been that way for generations, you know." "Nothing really out of the ordinary," say others. "There been wars between them before. Long as the Mon Cal don't do anything rash, don't got nothin' to worry about!" While the local Quarren population has always been a little exclusive of other races, it seems that some of the deepest civilizations have been a wee bit more willing to let human travelers, especially spaces and smugglers, interact with them. Of course, the Mon Calamari still don't delve too deep into Quarren territory. There's no reason to, after all. Right? Hatred has been stirring in the deepest places of Dac. It's a subtle thing, but hundreds of secret, incognito ISB agents have helped to fuel the fire. By now, the social system in Quarren and Mon Calamari territory alike has become inundated in all key areas with small teams, comprised of some of the best field agents the ISB had to offer. The secret network has been working hard to make friends in all of the right places, and to spread a subtle, secret hatred amongst the Quarren of their Mon Calamari brethren. Meanwhile, an entirely different sect of Imperial agents have been at work on a decidedly more devious plan. Overseen personally by Sector Director Fleming, also under cover and on site, the agents have been preparing for the final move in Operation Squid Lake's deployment; the systematic poisoning of various Mon Calamari operated fisheries and processing centers, meant to poison the entire Quarren food supply, and the spoiling of a major Mon Calamari medical warehouse. Quite possibly the ultimate setup by which, if the dark side graces the villains, will plunge the planet into a sudden and heated state of civil unrest. The Mon Calamari government officials, with just enough subtle dislike and heedless uncaring for their Quarren neighbors, reacted slowly to stem the tide of rumors. Any time a Quarren actually broke down and asked for help, that help was slower in coming than for any Mon Calamari in a similar situation. And of course, not every member of the Mon Calamari race was as noble and selfless as famed Admiral Ackbar, in orbit on his flagship, Home One, trying to direct the course of a war that rages across the galaxy. This battle is not one he is well equipped to fight, even if he was aware of it. Thus, the ISB agents, with a few well-placed bribes amongst less-noble Mon Calamari, are able to easily acquire the footholds they desired amongst the denizens of Dac. Enough Mon Calamari looked the other way, because what was asked of them involved hurting the annoying Quarren... of course, they were never told the true extent of the damage their mysterious friends were interested in creating, but hey, it's only Quarren, right? No one important to worry about being hurt. Virtually no world or culture is entirely devoid of internal strife, and Dac is not exception. The mutual home of the Mon Calamari and the Quarren, the planet lies in the Calamari system, in a sector of the same name in the Outer Rim. With OS Paladin and Home One in system news travels at a steady pace between Ord Mantell and Dac in order to keep the military leaders fully appraised of the current status of the war and, of course, to keep the government officials on Ord Mantell on the same page. It is only the faintest whispers of rumors of some sort of civil unrest that trickles back to Ord Mantell, and what little there is that can be verified is attributed, at first, to nothing more than noisy editorial commentaries on the native holo broadcasts. Nothing out of the usual, of course. As there is always one group pointing fingers at another and making snide remarks, that is, after all, the way that civilization operates. The misimpression that the Quarren and the Mon Calamari are good neighbors and virtually indistinguishable culturally, other than the physical differences of course, is so ingrained that it takes a keen ear and eye and an awake mind for someone to start tracking these disturbances as anything other than annoying news bytes. Through a complicated channel of encoded messages and signals, it begins. ISB agents attached to the main bacta processing facility in Reef Home City are the first to act, as one Mon Calamarian technician opens a container bearing a unique substance inside the main bacta purification chambers. The container holds a stock of trichoplaxic inhibitors, a gaseous substance designed to help preserve bacta, but it has been tampered with, imbued with nyamione, another gas both invisible to the eye and nose. Upon striking free air, the nyamione interacts with the collection of bacta inside the otherwise sterile facility, turning it sour as it passes from container to container, through ductwork and pumps. The bacta begins emitting a foul, deadly toxin, killing everyone inside the facility, including the ISB agents on site responsible for tampering with the Mon Calamarian's otherwise harmless container. Meanwhile, a much more subtle, yet impeccably timed and orchestrated attack begins to reach its zenith; this, on the food supply of the Quarren. Slicing and tampering with lines of communication were the weapon, and the target, four of the planet's largest suppliers of Quarren foodstuffs. The tamperings were minimal but designed to wreck massive havoc, as Calamari workers ‘accidentally’ diverted fresh supplies here and there, mixing old stocks with new. The old stocks, now sour and dangerous to consume, are mixed with fresh, seemingly safe stocks as they're shipped out into Quarren society. News of the mishap at the planet's main bacta facility raises much alarm throughout the planet. Of course, there are plenty of good bacta supplies to handle the normal, day-to-day medical needs of the planet's society. Only in the case of an all-out-war, could this become an issue. After all, fresh bacta supplies will rotate in over the next month. Nevertheless, it is an alarming development that is likely to bring in attention from media and government alike. But then, it starts happening. In the deepest places of Quarren society, the fish-like Quarren start growing ill and dropping dead, left and right. The tainted food supplies are an extremely dangerous mixture; spoiled Quarren seafood can have almost immediate, deadly effects, and for those who grow ill, medical help is slow to come, if at all, with procedures bogged down by government officials (primarily Calamari) as they pore over the mishap at Reef Home City's prime bacta plant. An angry roar grows in the depths of the great sea. The news bytes themselves are low-level bits of data, reported to one desk after another before getting shuffled into a pile, scooped up and promptly forgotten. It is, after all, a rather large universe and there is simply no way to keep track of everything. But when the news of the Bacta catastrophe reaches the right sources it flashes through in big bright BOLD LETTERS. Again, not a panic, but a serious amount of attention is paid to the news, and the investigation into how and why and the body count of the dead in the Bacta facility. Odd, these things just don't happen all that often. It's another piece of the puzzle, and while this one is being studied, some underpaid staffling remembers seeing something about other troubles on planet. The files are finally located, after a great deal of shuffling, finger pointing, whispering and muttering. Now there are two pieces of the puzzle, but they don't exactly go together, do they? More news begins to trickle in, but at a faster pace as the right ears and eyes are being pointed in the correct direction. Contaminated food supply - Quarren food supply at that. Mon Calamari and Quarren unrest is finally tacked up on someone's workstation and a 'group' is assembled to keep a better eye on it. By the time the fish-like Quarren start to die in ever spreading numbers, and the tainted food supplies are hesitantly tagged as the source of the death toll, it's readily apparent that something serious is happening. But the questions still remain: what, why, etc. Bacta does no good against food poisoning, especially the rapidly developing type caused by spoiled Quarren delicacies. The tragedy at the Bacta Processing Facility does not /directly/ affect the Emergency Medical Response teams designed to rush aid to the Quarren. However, the shocking situation has slowed down the lines of communication just enough that the rapidly spreading Quarren deaths weigh heavier than the planet's emergency medical response teams can handle. It only takes a couple of hours before settlements like the Domed City of Aquarius begin to stink with the smell of dead Quarren, their poisoned bodies eating themselves from the inside out. Hysteria begins to spread among many of the Quarren neighborhoods. Families begin locking themselves inside homes, evacuating into the open waters, burning food supplies and accepting that starvation may be a better option than the gruesome way their friends and neighbors are dying. However, the Quarren are made of something stockier than to give in to mere hysteria. The strong-willed speak out first, and hysteria becomes rage. While the cities start to light up with the burning fires of shops and fisheries, the angry Quarren raise their voices in violent protest. Who do they blame? Their negligent, spoiled Calamarian brethren. Once the cities begin to burn, which has the dual benefit of taking care of the dead and rotting bodies but also kills the spreading sickness, the problem gets bumped upwards to the next level of bureaucratic oversight. Fire, after all, is the oldest of all purifying agents. And it's in the fires of the anger, the death, the heated words being shouted from one side to the other, that some senior official finally makes the call to the elevate the status of this little bit of civil unrest to a category that equates to 'what the heck is going on and someone fix this now!'. Of course there's an official code for it, something impressively bland like 'status orange' but that's not the point. The Mon Calamarian ambassador reports to Leia's office several hours after sundown on Ord Mantell, the lights in the government complex burning brightly despite the late hour. The Chief of State is waiting for the ambassador, walking around her desk to greet the ambassador as soon as she enters the room. Hands extended she clasps the ambassador's hands with hers for a moment, "The news from Dac is more troubling by the hour, honored Ambassador. Has martial law been considered yet as an option to help restore order?" The Mon Cal ambassador, a lovely woman with salmon mottled skin, gently squeezes her webbed hands against the unwebbed hands of the Chief of State. "Martial law may only exacerbate the situation, unless it could be ensured that those used to enforce that stance are neither Quarren nor Mon Calamari are seen as the ones trying to do the enforcement. Our seas are boiling yet again, and the people are looking for someone to blame on either side." The woman in her flowing Ambassadorial garb seems rather sad. "And blame is in greater supply than usual on my world." A soft sigh escapes between her lips. "There are already more fingers pointing than there are stars in the sky, it seems." Fortunately for the watery world of Dac, the civil unrest seems contained to Quarren territories. There's still too much shock at the sudden outbreak of disease and rapid death amongst the Quarren that, even the angriest of the mobs, have yet to even consider taking action against their Calamari brethren. Though words are heated and fingers are pointed, no fists have yet to be made. However, the Calamari are also far from foolish. The lines of separation between Quarren and Calamari neighborhoods have quickly been redrawn, no longer fuzzy and blurred, but now quite clear. It may only be a matter of time before the angry mobs slow their heated shouts and begin talking amongst each other... and that could very well be the turning point, determining whether this will simmer into tragedy, or boil over into civil war. On Ord Mantell, the Quarren ambassador rushes down the corridor, the lines of his face drawn into a painful scowl. "Out of my way," he says hastily to the golden protocol droid standing outside of Leia's office. "I have my papers," he says, flashing them to the guards. "Let me in, this is urgent!" Offering a gentle squeeze in return, Leia studies the ambassador with an intent gaze, her brow creased in a frown of concern as she releases the Mon Calamarian's hands and gestures towards the chairs arranged near her desk in invitation. "Perhaps a neutral peace keeping body, then, instead of drawing from either population centers. We would be glad, of course, to assist by drawing on our own troops for this endeavor. The first thing to concentrate on is maintaining the problem as best we can, securing safe food supplies for our people, disposal of the deceased population and tending to the living. While quarantining themselves in their homes and living quarters may stop the spread of the sickness, they will soon run out of food. Now, I can -- " she pauses as she hears a voice raised from outside her office door. A glance towards one of the guards standing just inside the doorway and he nods, opening the door to see to the new arrival. Recognizing the voice as that of the Quarren ambassador she lifts her voice slightly to say, "Please escort the Ambassador into my office," and falls silent, again rising to her feet in preparation to greet the Quarren ambassador. As the guards follow the Quarren ambassador in, he looks from side to side, the tentacles around his face shifting nervously. Altogether, however, he seems quite well adjusted, given the situation. "Minister," he says to Leia, then turns and pauses for a moment before addressing the Calamarian. "Ambassador." He takes a few slower steps, forcing himself to calm down now that he's in the room, and stops at a comfortable distance from Leia. He lifts a suction-cupped hand, with small datadisks attached to each finger. "It's..." he starts to say, but finds that he's lost his words. His fingers show themselves to be shaking a little, and he quickly collects the datadisks together and hides them in a fist. "My people." He pauses again, trying to collect himself and stay calm, and doing a valiant job of it for now, though the stress shows in the hardening of his sad eyes. "The situation is..." He stops, flustered, and simply stands there, silent now. "The situation is critical," the Mon Calamari woman says with kindness and compassion in her voice, her large eyes moist. "I have asked for an impartial group to help our world to keep the peace, so our people can be saved and the law enforced fairly and justly." "And we will make that happen," Leia replies in a firm, determined voice. She senses that even the most comforting of a touch would send the Quarren ambassador back into an emotional state and refrains from doing that, though she does extend one hand to rest her fingertips against his sleeve covered arm. "We will draw the impartial group from our own support command, a neutral body that is neither Quarren nor Calamari, to be physically demonstrative of their neutrality to both enforce your laws but also to render aid and assistance. Medical supplies and food, of course, to begin with. Most of the people will be drawn from support command, meaning doctors, medical personnel, scientists, and the like. Engineers and biotechnicians to track down the source of this sickness and building crews to help repair the damage that the fires have brought to your cities. Further, one idea may be to remove entire populations from the infected areas until the contagion is quarantined then eradicated," she suggests, fielding the idea as it comes to her. When the Calamarian speaks up, the Quarren Ambassador darts his eyes over, initially hasty in his expression, but he remains silent and listens to the Chief of State, whom he still respects. Nevertheless, some of what she says ignites a fire within him, and he points his other hand toward her. "You need not track anything down, Minister. With all due respect, it is quite clear where this all began." He lowers his hand and raises the disks again. "I have initial reports from one of my aides, Eeth Mentel." He reaches over and lets the disks fall from his fingertips, clattering onto Leia's desk. "I am eagerly awaiting his arrival, he departed for New Alderaan as soon as this... /tragedy/ began." His tentacles buck and weave as he speaks, his eyes still hardened by the shock of it all. "Mentel will know what is happening... he has direct contact with the Quarren sectors. He will have strong advice on what can be done, but I urge you." He stops, and looks at the Calamarian next to him. "I /urge/ you not to take action with any sort of haste! Wait until Mentel arrives..." He stops, his tentacles quivering. "I fear for the wrong move." The Mon Calamari seems honestly puzzled by her Quarren counterpart's words, giving a distinctly quizzical expression to both of the others in the room. "I do not understand," she admits honestly. "What information do you have that I do not?" Leia reaches for the data disks that the Quarren Ambassador drops onto her desk. She fits one into the datapad she takes from her side and starts reviewing the information as soon as it starts to scroll onto the screen. "Decisions made in haste are typically repented at leisure," she says aloud while going over the information, "we will hold final decisions until we have all the data at hand. However, we do need to start sending relief and aid as early as we can get people and supplies into position. Now, I know that we have ships that have necessary supplies and personnel, but those ships are going to be full of Republic personnel and uniforms. Will that cause a stir of unrest to the point where it would be - and I do not like saying this - best to wait for the support command to rally the necessary assets?" The Calamarian ambassador has resigned to looking at the floor once the information has been downloaded and displayed. There is a lingering silence in the room, broken after a few moments by the Quarren Ambassador. "I... don't know." The Quarren sighs deeply, his tentacles fluttering with the light breeze from within. He folds his arms and starts pacing the room. "Put your people in place... but..." He turns and looks at the Calamarian, thoughtful. "We should wait for your aide," suggests the Calamarian. The Quarren nods his head slowly, and turns to Leia again. "Madame... I take my leave. I will come when Mentel arrives." A few hours later, Eeth Mentel and the Quarren Ambassador reconvene in the Chief of State's office, alongside military leaders like Crix Madine and Admiral Ackbar, the Calamarian Ambassador, and a pair of human men responsible for putting together a rapid-response medical and support team. The leaders each share their part, ranging from medical and quarantine response to potential riot control from General Riekaan. When Admiral Ackbar delivers his fleet response plan, Mentel seems rather irritated, but keeps his mouth quiet. Mentel's brief of the situation is grim. All signs of the tragedy point toward the Calamari, which the Calamarian Ambassador is quick to deny. That doesn't entirely help things, as the Quarren Ambassador is quick to point out that his counterpart, quote, "ought to face the facts, rather than scrub his dome and wash his fins." However, when all is said and done, and all of the others have agreed to allow the Chief of State emergency powers over the situation, the final opinion left to be voiced rests on the shoulders of the Quarren Ambassador. After a long silence comes a guttural sigh, and the Quarren raises his suction-cupped fingers to point at Leia. "You can send in your peacekeepers, but make sure they understand, our people are not pleased. Shake us too hard, and I'm not sure I can keep the dam plugged." He turns aside, frowning deeply. "Come, Mentel." The two Quarren depart, headed back to troubled waters. They leave the others in their wake, facing steep odds. Squid Lake: Eruption